The Things We Do For Love
by parrillad
Summary: AU. There's only so much one person can take before they decide 'enough is enough'... In which Regina gets tired of being everyone's metaphorical, and sometimes literal, punching bag. And Henry gets a cold, hard dose of reality. Post!The Millers Daughter. Regal Believer Centric. Possible Rating Change.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One**_

It's all-consuming. The guilt, and the self-loathing. She'd taken the blame because, at the time, she'd felt like she deserved it. She deserved every word he'd flung at her, deserved every look that scowled upon his lips and the glare that settled in his eyes. It hadn't been subtle. It hadn't crept up on her without noticing. One day, he'd hugged her goodbye and kissed her cheek hello. The next, he was calling her evil. It was sudden, and it had hurt. At first, she'd thought it was a phase. That he was simply growing up and becoming more independent; but the resistance continued, the names continued, the stories continued... Regina had thought that Doctor Hopper could help. That maybe Henry just needed someone to talk to, someone that wasn't her. But he hadn't. He'd just made things worse. For two years she'd fought him, had tried to make him understand - Regina loved him, with everything she had... but evidently, it hadn't been enough.

_'I found my real mom!' _

That had hurt. That had stung like a bitch, and she'd faltered as she stood, as he ran past her and she'd had to catch her breath. His real mom? The woman who abandoned him, who never cared to check up on him, to make sure that he was safe and healthy and happy... the woman he'd known less than twelve hours... was who he considered his '_real mom_'? She'd told herself not to worry, that he was a child and he'd been emotional and tired and he'd just shouted things he didn't mean because he didn't think. But she knew that wasn't true. It wasn't the first time he'd said it...

_She's staring at him, with that look in her eyes that tells him he's in big, big trouble. Before the book, he would have pouted, he would have smiled at her because he knew she couldn't resist him when he smiled at her, and he'd have hugged her around the waist and called her 'Mommy'. But he knew the truth now, and she wasn't his mother anymore. She was The Evil Queen, and she had to be stopped. _

_"How many times have I told you about leaving your bag in the hall?" _

_Said offending item now hangs from her hand, two fingers slid through the top and curled slightly, and he looks at it momentarily before shrugging, keeping unbelievably tightlipped. That, of course, only irritates her further. He knows how she feels about communication, about proper vocabulary and enunciation, and he's not surprised when she raises her eyebrow and her head tilts somewhat. "Shrugging is not an answer, Henry. I nearly tripped over this on my way inside, you know it's dangerous to leave things lying around."_

_Of course he knows. He'd tripped over his own toy truck when he was four, had nearly fallen down the stairs from the landing halfway up the case and would have too, had it not been for Regina catching him around the waist at the last second. She'd peppered kisses over his forehead, fussed over him as if he really had fallen and that was that. No more leaving things lying around. Ever. So yeah, he knows - but that doesn't stop him from shrugging again, turning back to the homework scattered across one side of the dining room table. _

_He doesn't see Regina closing her eyes, inhaling deeply just to keep herself calm, but he does hear her when "Your grounded," wafts towards him from three feet away. His eyes widen, and he turns in his seat to see her walking back in to the hall, his bag clutched tightly in her hand and he scowls. "What?! No!" He stills when she does, watches with growing apprehension as she stiffens, turns and stares at him. He builds up the courage, something he quietly tells himself he inherited from Prince Charming and Snow White, and stands. "You can't do that." If he'd cared, he'd have noticed how alike he looks to the woman who raised him. Confident and determined, his chin slightly lifted and his jaw locked in place. He is every ounce her son, but that doesn't seem to matter to him. _

_Regina blinks, before her eyes narrow and she nods. "Uh - yes, I can." She can't help the slightly condescending response, because this isn't the first time his picked a fight with her and quite frankly, she's exhausted. Tiredly, Regina dropped the bag, slipping her fingers from the handle and grasping it with her whole palm instead, swinging it somewhat as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I have told you a thousand times to hang your bag up, Henry - and yet you still won't listen to me!"_

_"I don't __have__ to listen to you!" He counters, and he's all sass and bite and if that's not Regina's influence, what is? Something lights up in Regina's eyes though, and she straightens her back, brings herself to her full height and declares, as if it weren't obvious, "I am your mother!" but she's not prepared for the backlash._

_He shakes his head and replies coldly. "No, you're not." And he's surprised when it looks like he's physically struck her. Regina steps back, one hand falling to her stomach as her mouth drops open and she stares at him with wide, startled eyes. A part of him wants to apologise, wants to take the hurt he sees flash across her face away, but a bigger part, a stronger part, pushes him to continue. "You're not my __real__ mom." He doesn't wait to see her face. Instead, he turns immediately and sits back at the table, picking up a pencil and continuing the math problem he'd been in the middle of. Regina watches him in silence, before lowering his bag in to the corner by the doorway, and walking up to her room. He doesn't see her until it's time for dinner, and she takes him to Granny's because she'd forgotten to cook. _

It wasn't the first time he'd said that to her, but this time was so much worse. Because said '_real mom_' had stood in front of her, with a smile and a shrug and her heart had lurched in her chest. She'd swallowed the emotion that left her throat thick and tight. This was her competition? The woman who could do no wrong in her son's eyes, despite not knowing a thing about her beyond her name and, apparently, her address? Yeah - that had hurt.

Quite a lot had happened since then, and Regina was no closer to feeling like '_Mom_' again than she was to holding hands with Snow White in the middle of town, skipping in circles and declaring her love for the naive little girl she'd once saved. She'd taken every blow, bitten her tongue and smiled when necessary, tried to reassure her son that she had changed, that she was good now - only for him to turn on her not three weeks later. She understood... a little. Hopper's murder had left quite a lot of evidence against her and she knew Henry was still learning. He was still trying to grasp the idea that he'd been right, that she had lied to him for so long - but she'd still felt bitter when he'd thrown himself in to Emma Swan's arms, had immediately thought the worst of her, despite everything she'd done for him.

Her mother knew that. Had seen the pain and the jealousy that had begun to consume her and who would she be, if she hadn't taken the opportunity when it presented itself? She certainly wouldn't have been Cora. Her mother was a vindictive bitch, a manipulator, a heartless monster. Henry was lucky, Regina thought. At least he hadn't been raised by the Queen of Hearts, who was considerably worse than The Evil Queen.

So, she teamed up with her mother. Was that any real surprise? They'd all but thrown her out in to the cold, had demanded the very best of her and then turned their backs at the first sign of trouble. Was it any wonder she'd clung to the only hope she had of seeing her son again? Of seeing him look at her like she was his world, like he used to when he was so small?

A bitter laugh slipped from her lips as Regina stared in to her unlit fireplace, a near empty glass of whiskey in her hand. They won again, apparently. Cora was dead, by her hand no less, and she was once again, alone. There had been a small part of her that had waited for him to come, for him to show up on the porch he'd played on as a child and fall in to her arms, telling her it'd all be okay and that he was here, that he'd never leave again. But that had just been wishful thinking, and Regina was so very tired of that. Either he didn't know, or he didn't care, and she wasn't sure which hurt more. Both, it seemed, when she knocked back the glass and winced at the burn in her throat. It was her third, and she had no intention of stopping anytime soon, but then - no one else was here, and no one else would care.

_**Disclaimer:**_ _Not mine. _

_**Note:**_ _Hey guys, I know it's been a while and for that I'm sorry. Something pissed me off today and reminded me of all the reasons why I hated The Charming's, and in turn, Henry, especially around Season Two. So... I'm not entirely sure where I'm going to go with this story, but I have a brief outline in my head so, hopefully that'll work for a couple of chapters. At the moment, there's no set ships beyond Snowing, as this mostly focus' on Regina's relationship with Henry. Obviously, it's an AU and it starts after The Miller's Daughter. However, if you're reading this, hoping for a SwanQueen endgame, I suggest you not continue. I don't ship it and the most I can promise is a tentative friendship, if that. This is not a Pro-Emma Swan story. If you don't like that, you don't have to read it. _

_Please let me know what you think. I know it's not much but I'm just trying to set up for the rest of the story. Consider this a Prologue, but not - if that makes sense._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

She broke in to her own mausoleum. Why, she's not entirely sure, but she thinks she was more than a little drunk because she has a key, and yet she'd blasted the doors open, shakily stumbling inside. Were she more rational, she might have made her way down to her vault. She might have hidden within the room behind the mirror, because it was warmer there than in the crypt and when she fell asleep, it wouldn't be on a hard concrete ground, but on a surprisingly comfortable chaise. But she's not rational at the moment. She's drunk. Completely, totally and incoherently drunk.

Regina stumbles towards her father's coffin, crinkles her nose when her palms fall flat against cold, hard stone. One hand misses, and she nearly topples over before righting herself and blinking blearily. Her father's not actually in there. Oh no. His actual body was buried on a hill in The Enchanted Forest. She'd even left him a rose. But that means that he's not here, and that makes her more than a little sad, and more than a little angry. It's her fault, of course. It always is, isn't it? Bitterly, Regina huffs to herself before turning slowly, attempting to sit on the surface that hides the stairs to her vault, but again, she misses, and she slides to the floor. An '_oomph_' passes her lips, something she'd be horrified to learn had come from her own mouth - were she to actually care. But she doesn't. Not anymore. So she sits there, on the floor of her family tomb, with the doors wide open, one hanging off the hinges, and she says absolutely nothing. For a good half an hour, she merely stares out the door before falling asleep on her side, knees drawn up to her chest, dried tear tracks on her cheeks.

She wakes with a headache. Of course she does, she'd drunk herself in to a stupor the night before. And to sunlight streaming in through the doorway. When she opens her eyes, she has to close them almost immediately, groaning at the unwelcome bright light assaulting her corneas, and she rolls over, turning her back on the door, and on the sun. Her neck hurts. Understandable, considering she'd slept on the ground with nothing but her hands to use as a pillow and her back kills. Vaguely, she remembers falling down her front step and landing in a rather undignified heap on the footpath leading up to her door. She feels at least somewhat grateful that no one had witnessed her blunder, before realising that she'd made a decision last night, and that decision would mean she wouldn't care either way.

It had been difficult. At first, all she wanted to do was cry. And then, she wanted revenge. It always came down to that, didn't it? Snow White did something and Regina paid for her mistakes. She really shouldn't have been so surprised, but then, this had been a new low that Regina wasn't aware Snow was capable of. It had sparked her thirst, had peaked The Evil Queen's interest and that alone frightened her. So Regina went from sadness, to anger, to fear, and that fear had soon turned in to resolve. No matter what she did, she'd always be the enemy. That was her epiphany. Always the villain, even when she's not. It had left a bitter taste in her mouth, a bitter taste she'd tried to wash away with whiskey, and then when she ran out of that, cider. But it remained, taunting her with the knowledge that her son was gone, her mother was gone, and she was alone.

_'You would've been enough.'_

The final words of a dying woman, and whilst it should have warmed her heart, it only broke it further. Why wasn't she then? Why wasn't she enough for her mother? For her son? For her people, her husband, her huntsman, herself? Angrily, blinded by the hurt that had accumulated throughout the years, her hand had wrapped tightly around her glass, and she'd hurled it at the fireplace. Luckily, the fire had not been lit, otherwise she very well could have just blown up her living room, and it was with a horrifying sickness in the pit of her stomach that she realised... she didn't care if she had. For some reason, she'd needed her father. Needed to talk to him, to bare her heart to a man long dead, and that's how she'd found herself wandering through the streets of Storybrooke at one o'clock in the morning. Not many people were still awake, but she thinks she'd spied Ruby in the window of Granny's Diner, but she can't really remember. She'd lost her shoes when she entered the graveyard, had discarded them by the steps before trudging up and slamming the doors of her mausoleum open with a shaky wake of her hand. They were probably still there, and if they weren't, who cares. She has plenty of pairs at home anyway.

It was during the half an hour of blind staring that she'd decided... she was done. She was sick and tired of trying, only to end up burned. Her son didn't believe in her, despite appearances, he still shied away when things got difficult. He hated her. That was the impression she got from the boy she'd raised for ten years, the boy she loved wholeheartedly, only to have that love thrown back in her face. Maybe he didn't, but she'd never know it. She'd always be The Evil Queen to him, never The White Knight. He didn't want her in his life, and if that's what he wanted, that's what he'd get.

She still loved him, that would never changed. And she's not giving up, she's just... not trying anymore. As far as she was concerned, they were two very different things. But if, if not when, he wanted her to be his mother again, he could come to her himself. She was so very tired of chasing after him, hanging on to every feasible amount of attention he felt like giving her, only to find herself heartbroken when he rejected her attempts at reconnection. And she was tired of them. The Charming's, the people... They expected too much of her, too soon, and when she fell below their expectations, she was once again hailed a villain.

Stop using magic, they'd told her. How could she stop using something that was a part of her? She felt incomplete without it, torn in two - but they hadn't cared. Because magic was dark and evil, unless it was their own. The double standards were ridiculous, weighing heavily on Regina's heart... but what else could she do? Her son meant everything to her, and they used him against her every chance they got. And he let them, with a smile on his face.

Before fading in to oblivion, succumbing to the alcohol that made her head pound and her vision double, Regina'd made a decision. There was only so much one person could take before they broke completely, and Regina was only hanging on by a very thin thread.

* * *

><p>"I'm worried about her."<p>

David glances over his shoulder at his wife, curled up in their bed, where she's been for the past three days. She hasn't moved much, hasn't eaten much either, and she's not spoken a word since Cora's death. He understands she feels guilty, had been furious when he'd found her outside Regina's mausoleum, hands over her ears and rocking back and forth. But he'd pushed that aside, they'd tried to stop Regina in time but... they were just too late. She couldn't blame herself forever. He's leaning against the wall, watching from the living room, and Emma stands by the window, arms crossed over her chest. She doesn't say anything, merely nods her head and glances in the same direction, shifting straighter when she hears footsteps on the stairs.

She'd let Henry sleep in for the past couple of days, and whilst he normally would have been up an hour ago, his sleep schedule's been thrown for a loop and he's not quite used to it just yet. When she looks up, he's rubbing at his eyes with sleep tussled hair, and she thinks it's kind of adorable. "What's going on?" His voice is thick with sleep, and it takes her a moment to realise he'd actually asked her a question, and she hesitates. They hadn't told him what happened. Just that Cora was dead and Snow was upset. Henry hadn't questioned it much, for once biting his tongue because though he had questions, his grandmother looked worse for wear and he didn't want to make it worse. But she can't avoid it forever, they'll have to tell him eventually. If they don't, Regina will, and they don't want her spinning the story. So Emma smiles, wanders away from the window and throws her arm around Henry's shoulders. "Nothing. Snow's just... not feeling well. Hey, I was thinking - breakfast at Granny's?"

Henry chances yet another glance at Snow, before his lips thin in to a small smile and he nods. "I'll just grab my bag." He turns, Emma's arm dropping to her side and he's halfway up the steps before he pauses, looks over his shoulder and clears his throat. "Uhm... Do you think we could stop by Mom's later? I left a couple of things there that I need for school tomorrow." Emma and David exchange a look, David's head tilting in concession, as if to say '_this one's yours_' before he pushes away from the wall and quietly makes his way to Snow's side. Sighing, Emma looks up at Henry and shrugs reluctantly, a tight smile on her face. "Maybe." He nods, turns back and takes two steps at a time to reach the loft above and Emma breathes out the breath she'd held in. She stands there, arms crossed over her chest and staring at the stairs, and David joins her. "We have to tell him." Emma nods, because of course they do, but now's not the right time and maybe they should wait for Snow, wait for her to explain to him, because as much as she loves her son, Henry sees the world in black and white and this will shatter his view on his grandmother, regardless of how justified Snow's actions may be.

"Yeah... Just, not now. We'll tell him later. Is Snow coming to breakfast?" David shakes his head, and they both turn to look at the woman curled up on the bed, staring at the wall opposite her.

* * *

><p>She lies there for a while. Having rolled on to her back, Regina stares at the ceiling with her fingers linked over her stomach, and she just lies there. She'll have to move eventually, she can't stay there forever despite how tempting the idea is, but right now she just wants to stare, and think. <em>What do I do now?<em> The past few months, she's been focused on Henry, on mending their now broken relationship and with that no longer an option, she's stuck. She's not the Mayor anymore, not really. She still uses her office but that's just because they haven't had the guts to kick her out of it yet. And she's resigned herself to the sidelines, to watching her son grow up with only scraps of his attention, his devotion, what little he decides to throw her way.

She doesn't realise how much it hurts to think about until she's rubbing at her chest with a wince. Her heart aches. It overpowers the hangover and makes her want to throw up. Regina bites her lip, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in before tentatively rising. Obviously, she sits up too quickly because she gets a sudden head rush and she feels more than a little dizzy. "Ugh..." she groans, rolling her neck to work out the kinks before sitting up properly, legs crossed beneath her. Her hand's still pressed over her chest, and her brow furrows in thought. She hesitates, before slowly plunging her hand in to her body and wrapping cold fingers around her own heart. Regina shivers, grimaces as she tugs once, twice, three times, and her hand slips back out of her chest. It hurts like a bitch and she swears softly under her breath as she stares down at the black _thing_ she cradles in her hands. It's so very black, darker than she'd expected but she's not surprised. She is surprised by the few spots of dark, dark red. And she can't help but compare it to her mother's.

Her mother, who's heart was bright red, clean and pure. Cora had removed hers before it was corrupted, before it could be ruined beyond recognition and that makes Regina feel sick. With all that Cora had done, all the lives she had destroyed, she had a heart as red as blood, and it wasn't fair. Absentmindedly, she begins to rub at her chest. She feels... strange. Almost empty but not completely. It doesn't feel like she'd imagined it to feel like, and the thought alone startles her. She shouldn't be feeling anything at all. Her heart is in her hand rather than in her chest and yet, she can still feel things. The emotions are dimmed, not quite as strong, but they're still there. And if she thinks about her son...

Regina's gaze lifts from her chest to her heart, before turning over her shoulder. Clutching her heart protectively in one hand, the queen uses her other to help lift her to her feet, and she flicks her wrist, crinkling her nose at the headache beginning to build. Her father's tomb slides to the side, and stairs are almost instantly revealed. Stairs that she descends, the only light emanating from her hand, the hand that holds her heart. Another flick of her wrist, and fires flickers to life, lighting the catacombs that run throughout Storybrooke, her vault included. Slowly, Regina walked towards the wall, where hundreds of boxes stack one on top of the other. She can hear them, the rhythmic beating of each and every heart she'd collected, but she ignores them. There's an empty box nearby. It had once held her mother's heart and now, it would hold her own. Carefully, Regina slid her heart through the doors and closed them, biting her lip once more before lifting the case and placing it between the others.

It makes sense to her. She can still feel, how she's not sure but she can, but feeling doesn't hurt as much as it did not five minutes before. Who knows... maybe this will help.

When she emerges from her vault, the sun is hidden slightly by clouds, and the mausoleum's not quite as bright. Regina stares at the mess that are those front doors before sighing heavily, waving her hand and watching in silence as they right themselves, clicking back in to place. She feels infinitely better than when she arrived, and she's not sure whether it's because she's not longer drunk off her ass or because her heart's buried more than six feet under. And truthfully, she doesn't really care. All she knows is that she feels lighter, and god damn hungry. Chancing once last glance at her father's name, the name she'd given to her son, Regina turns her back and walks away, closing the doors behind her with a deafening thud. Her shoes remain in a pile on the ground, and Regina contemplates the merits of putting them back on before deciding against it. Instead, she scoops them up and holds them loosely in her hand before wandering away from her father, her mother and her heart.

* * *

><p>The bell above the diner door dings, and Ruby looks up with a grin. "Hey guys!" Emma smiles, Henry smiles, and David nods, distracted. He really is awfully worried about his wife, and he'd been hesitant to leave her alone in their apartment, just in case Regina decided she was no longer above seeking revenge. But he couldn't very well tell Henry that, otherwise they'd have to tell him why, and Emma wasn't ready for that yet. So whilst he does smile at Ruby, it's not like his usual, and Emma shakes her head when Ruby looks at her for answers. No one really knows what happened. All they know is that Snow's not well, and Regina's mother is dead. In other words, just another day in Storybrooke.<p>

They slide in to a booth in the corner, at the back. Henry beside Emma, David across from them with his back to the door, and his phone rests on the corner of the table, just in case Snow calls. Henry's looking over the menu, not that he really needs too because it's breakfast at Granny's, and he always gets pancakes. They're quiet for a while, until Ruby wanders up to them with a slight bounce in her step, and she smiles. "Okay, so I saw the weirdest thing last night." Emma raises her eyebrow and smiles, whilst Henry plays with sugar packets and David stares at his phone. Clearly, none of them are going to ask, so it's up to Emma. "Yeah? What?"

"Regina." It's startling how quickly the mood changes by her just mentioning the queen's name. David's head shoots up and his stare rests on Ruby, Emma straightens in her seat and swallows nervously, whilst Henry stiffens, before finally looking up with a frown. Hesitantly, the wolf continues. "Uh, yeah... she was walking through the street at like, I don't know - midnight? One... ish? She looked really out of it too, I've never seen her like that." Not that she was worried about her, or anything. Okay, maybe she was. They may not be friends and Regina's probably tried to kill her more than once, but it was still unsettling, watching her stagger through the streets. And really, Ruby can kind of relate. Her mother had died too, but - it wasn't the same. Ruby killed hers, Regina's just died. Shaking her head, Ruby smiled. "Anyway, you guys getting your usuals?"

All three of them nod their heads at the same time, lost in thought as they process what Ruby had told them. Henry's particularly quiet, sugar packets long forgotten, and he speaks with his head bowed and his gaze settled on the table top. "Do you think she's okay?" He hadn't really thought much about his mother. He'd been so concerned with Snow, that Regina had completely slipped his mind. A small part of him feels bad, feels awfully guilty because she's his mother and she'd just lost hers, he should have gone to see her. But another part, the part that had seen nothing but The Evil Queen whispered that she deserved it, that she was probably planning something big, something bad - and god damn it, he's so confused. Emma's not though, and neither is David. They shouldn't jump to conclusions but Regina alone, at night, after having all but vocally vowed retribution, was more than unsettling. It was terrifying.

_**Disclaimer:** Not mine._

_**Note:** I'm not going lie, I'm more than surprised by the response to this. It's not my usual kind of story so I was a little hesitant, but alas, I shall continue. I have a bit more of a plan in mind now so at least there's that. Uhm, to that one guest that reviewed asking for a SwanQueen romantic relationship, I'm sorry but I don't really ship it and therefore it will not feature here. Like I said in the previous chapter's notes, this is not a Pro Emma Swan story. As far as I'm aware at the moment, there will be no romantic ship for Regina. I'm focusing on Regina, and Regina and Henry. Granny's mentioned as a character because she'll be important to Regina's progress, as will Ruby and Archie. The focus isn't romance here guys, but should I stumble across a romance aspect, I'll let you guys know ahead of time._

_Please let me know what you guys think. I've updated quite quickly but that's just to get the ball rolling. I'll probably set up a schedule soon enough._


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